Spectator Behavior
The Field Review: TFR-097
THE LEDE
A Weekly Column On Living Well
Two years into writing The Field Review, I’m still getting used to the fact that I send this newsletter out every week to a bunch of complete strangers on the internet.
I sit in my house and write about things that matter to me. Some weeks it’s light. I write about golf, taxidermy, and Christmas lights. Other weeks it’s a little more personal. Anxiety. Fatherhood. Identity. The balancing act of trying to spin every plate at once without dropping the ones that actually matter.
Then I hit publish and it goes out to a bunch people I don’t know.
Most weeks I don’t think twice about it. I click the button and move on with my life. Other weeks I remember there are real people on the other end of that publish button. When you write online, you hand readers enough context to either understand you or misunderstand you completely.
Photos are easier and less risky to share. A pretty sunset. A long road. A moment in time. Nobody argues with a beautiful sky.
But words are different. Words invite judgment, and if there’s anything the internet loves, it’s judgment. I find that people rarely take issue with my writing itself, but they do take vehement issue with the five words I’ve started including at the bottom of every issue. These five words seem to light an unforeseen fuse on a weekly basis.
Live Well. Tell No One.
That line attracts more attention than I ever expected, usually with some version of “gotcha” attached. People call it ironic. Hypocritical. Clout chasing. A walking contradiction. Someone once reposted it with a violent twist that forced me to report it. Last week a TFR subscriber reposted it and called it “ridiculous slop packaged in something that seems appealing.” I must admit it was an odd take for someone who has “always seeking Him” in their bio.
I can handle disagreement. I understand taste and preference probably more than most. Someone reading these five words and deciding it’s corny is totally fair in my book. After all, I’m not building a church here.
Yet, after years of being on social media and now years of writing online, I still can’t wrap my head around the hobby of internet hating. Spending your time tearing down a stranger’s idea because it makes you feel sharper than you are, then acting like you contributed something to the world.
That’s spectator behavior in my book. Shouting from the cheap seats with no skin in the game.
The funniest part is that most of the criticism comes from misunderstanding what those five words represent or where they came from. People read “Live Well. Tell No One.” as a claim, like I’m declaring myself the poster boy for a well-lived life while broadcasting it weekly. Yeah, that would piss me off too.
But if you’ve been a reader of The Field Review, you know that’s never been my intent.
Most of my days aren’t well-lived. But despite that fact, I’m still trying to build something better. I’m just in the middle of that process. I don’t know how many times I’ve written about not being anti-internet. I’m not logging off. If I was, you wouldn’t be reading this.
Those five words are a personal standard. A direction. A reminder to keep going, even when no one is watching.
I wrote them down in that order for the first time last June after revisiting Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. This has always been one of my favorite short stories, and one of the cleanest examples of quiet dignity I’ve ever read. The old man doesn’t have an audience. He doesn’t have a brand. He has the sea, the work, and his own internal sense of identity.
My favorite line from the book is, “Let him think I am more man than I am and I will be so.”
That is the genesis of “Live Well. Tell No One.”
A process of becoming. Of private effort. Quiet pride. The strength of knowing what you’ve done even when nobody else does.
I read something recently from one of my favorite strategic thinkers, Jasmine Bina, about how we now live in the era of contracts. The invisible agreements that hold all of our personal and professional relationships together. This made me think about contract I offer to you through The Field Review.
The contract I offer isn’t that I have life figured out.
My contract is that I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep writing about my attempt to live well without turning it into a performance. I’ll keep coming back to the same themes because the themes that I live my life against don’t change when internet preference does. I’ll be honest about what I’m working on, but I’ll keep most of the real work off the page.
That contract matters to me more than the reactions do. The reactions will always be there. Some people are wired to heckle. Some people think criticism counts as intelligence. Some people need an enemy because it’s easier than building anything themselves.
I don’t have time for that. And if I ever become the type of person who needs to tear someone else down on the internet to feel upright, I’ll know I’m not living well at all.
Live Well. Tell No One.
THE MARGIN
A Few Things That Grabbed My Attention This Week
Vox on America’s Fishing Paradox
I’ve always had mixed opinions on Vox as a media outlet. Like all of us, sometimes they put out good ideas and sometimes I feel like they just muddy the waters on topics they don’t do their research on. I recently watched this video on what they label, “America’s Fishing Paradox” where they talk about fish restocking in waterways across the United States. While they get some stuff right such as declining participation and license sales, I feel like they do muddy the waters when they start to talk about stocked vs native species. Worth a watch to form your own opinions.
Bear Grease Ep. 451: Shot in the Back - The Jason Dean Story
Yeah, I’m aware that The Field Review is just becoming a funnel for you to go listen to more Bear Grease/ Clay Newcomb content but it’s not my fault they’ve been putting out some super interesting stuff.
In this episode of the podcast, followed by a separate, more informal “render” conversation with Jason Dean himself, the team recounts the story of how Dean survived getting shot in the back by a .270 WIN hunting cartridge during deer season in 1990. It’s a miraculous story of survival, family, and ultimately, gun safety.
Worth a listen.
STANDARDS
Concepts & Vibes For Your Consideration
The Field Review is a weekly newsletter exploring the art of living well.
Every Sunday at 10AM EST, I share ideas, insights, and conversations that help break through the noise, offering a real look at how we can all keep moving forward.
Venture Onward,
Jack
Would love to hear more from you, the reader. What’s on your mind, where you’re headed, what you want to see next from me, the writer. Drop a comment below.
I subscribed to your channel a few days ago, when I saw the cool pictures you posted with the “live well, tell no one” on each of them.
That whole string of photos are now rotating as wallpapers on my phone!
Really love what you’re doing 💪🏻 it’s such a good reminder.
Your article also makes me think of Theodore Roosevelt’s “Man in the arena” speech.
Loving the LWTNO concept! Keep writing!
Signed,
A Stranger on the Internet